The Baker's Daughter
by Scorn's Child
Summary: Fem!Peeta Male!Katniss Just how I feel the Hunger Games would "Go Down" if Peeta and Katniss's genders were reversed. Partially told in Peeta's P.O.V. Story is a lot better than the summary, J-just read it dammit! R&R please!
1. Chapter 1

The bed was cold again. Katniss craned his neck, and could just barely make out the shape of his younger sister, Prim moving quietly out of the room and into the kitchen. With a glance at his father's old watch, Katniss decided it was about time he got going. Slipping out of bed and past his mother's own, he crept quietly towards the old leather boots that had molded themselves to his feet, they were so old. Slipping them on, Katniss sighed in relief at the feel of the old cracked leather. Shrugging on his jacket, Katniss slipped out the front door of the rickety old house, a small smile directed at his sister and a scowl and threat at the horrible, ugly, cat his sister had named Buttercup. It was still early, the shutters were still drawn, curtains were closed, and doors were locked tight. The Seam was still void of miners this early in the morning, and those who were awake stayed inside. Katniss could understand. He understood why _today_ mothers kept their children indoors, why _today _miners and working parents and children of all ages were reluctant to climb out of bed and travel outside. Why _today _there was an anxious air hanging depressingly over the district.

The Reaping.

Even that was enough to set Katniss's pace, as he ran silently towards the districts border, a useless fence that is supposed to be electrified every hour of the day, but was not. Easily slipping under the chain fence, Katniss stopped only once to grab his bow and arrows from an abandoned log. For most, it would be difficult to find his and Gale's hiding spot, a overhang shrouded with blackberry bushes and other plants, sheltered from view by large rocks. It was well-hidden from those who didn't know where to look, but it provided a perfect view of the Seam and it's people. By the time Katniss had arrived Gale was already there, the same cocky smile on his face as always. "Hey, Catnip." he greeted. Gale and Katniss looked a lot alike, like most people from the Seam did. With olive skin and their dark hair and gray eyes, they had been mistaken for brothers on many occasions.

"Hey, Prim left us cheese." Katniss replied immediately, plopping down next to his hunting partner and best friend. Gale smiled, making him look as charming as always. "Thank you, Prim." he praised, hands accepting his portion of the cheese. Gale set it aside and pulled out a small loaf of bread. Katniss gasped and snatched it from his hands. "Oh no way, is this real?" he exclaimed, pushing his nose into the bread's crust. Gale smiled. "Yeah, it only cost me two squirrels too. Guess Mr. Mellark was feeling a bit sentimental today?" he laughed. Katniss chose not to comment and instead shivered in delight as the treat touched his tongue, the cheese Prim had left them melting on the still warm bread. Gale had picked a handful of blackberries and was tossing them high above his head and into his mouth. "Happy Hunger Games-" he prompted, tossing a berry at him.

Katniss opened his mouth just in time to catch the berry-"And may the odds ever be in your favor." he finished, the berry exploding in his mouth with flavor. Gale's eyes drifted off towards the Seam until something caught his eye. Gale jabbed Katniss in the shoulder. "Hey, it's the baker's daughter again." he said grinning slyly at Katniss. Katniss flushed and punched Gale lightly on the shoulder before craning to see her.

And there she was.

Peeta Mellark, by far the prettiest girl to live in District 12 had stopped outside his door, like she did every three days by his count. Long blonde hair that streamed down her back, perfect fair skin, stunning blue eyes and a figure to match, Peeta was most definitely the apple of every man's eye in the Seam, her looks almost seeming foreign in the land of coal and dirt. Peeta knocked on the door, and immediately the door was flung open and Prim practically tackled Peeta in a hug. Even from up their overhang Katniss could see her smile down at his little sister. The laughed and talked soundlessly as she lead his sister out of the Seam and towards her family's bakery, where she took and taught Prim to bake and showed her the cakes that she had iced earlier. Prim adored Peeta, Katniss could even remember the multiple times where they would wander past the bakery window and Prim would wave at Mr. Mellark and simply gush over the cakes they couldn't afford.

Gale began laughing loudly. "Geez Catnip, the way you're staring at her you'd think you're trying to stare through her clothes!"

"Shut up!"

* * *

_Peeta's P.O.V._

I could tell they were watching me again. Eyes followed me everywhere, like I was some foreigner from the Capitol. I don't understand, there are many girls much prettier than me, taller, fitter, that had longer necks and weren't so darn clumsy. All I knew was how to bake and ice cakes, I couldn't provide for my family, all I knew were household duties, I wasn't fit to be outside the bakery. But I did, just to see him, just for a glimpse of leather boots disappearing into the woods, a swish of a game bag, anything. I was snapped out of my thoughts by a wolf whistle from across the street.

"Hey girlie, you lookin' for a good time?" the old man cackled, eyes glazed over with liquor. I could feel my neck stiffen as I unintentionally curled into myself, crossing my arms in front of me. I could understand why the man was drunk so early in the morning, it was a way people distracted themselves, drowning themselves in a brown bottle. The Reaping. It was just another way that the Capitol taught us they controlled us, to engrave fear into the bones of us and our families, because that was one of the two things the Capitol had over us; fear and The Hunger Games, their ultimate way of flaunting their power, by making twenty-four of the districts children lock in a desperate battle to win, to survive another day, to bring glory to their district once more. To show us how easily we will turn against each other for another day, another scrap of food, how easily we would slay others for glory, for an ounce of power.

A small house that tilted slightly sat closely to the ground, the shutters drawn shut, as most of the houses on the street were. One knock. Two Knocks. I paused before knocking once more. It was my way of letting Prim know it was me, since Katniss was so protective of her she was only allowed to answer the door for people she knew. I could hear excited laughter long before the door was flung open, the hinges squeaking in protest. Prim tackled me in a hug almost, clinging to my waist. I smiled gently down at her, hugging her back and stroking her hair. The soft scent of soap drifted off of her and I breathed it in deeply. I had begun to think of Prim as a younger sister I never had, all my siblings being older and boys. Sometimes I wish I had been born a boy, I feel my mother wouldn't be disappointed in me, wouldn't look at me in disapproval and disgust. I shook my head to rid myself of these thoughts, today was grim enough, I shouldn't force myself to think about the more depressing things in my life.

"Hello Prim, how are you?" I asked smiling gently at the younger blonde. I could tell she was going to be beautiful when she got older, she was already so pretty now. Blue eyes crinkled with the grin that split across her fair face. "Oh I'm fine, thank you! And you are?" she replied politely, her hand clasping mine as I slowly lead her out of the Seam. "Oh, I'm alright. I frosted some new cakes today down at the bakery, my father was kind enough to make an extra one that we could both frost." I informed, a small smile crossing my face briefly at her excited expression. "Peeta, your father is the best!" she giggled.

Sometimes I was amazed at Prim's innocence, how she could live contentedly with her life, the only pains she knew were hunger, her father dead before she could remember. Her brother a strong man who could provide for them, and it wasn't a secret about how their mother had shut down but was slowly being revived with time. I sometimes envied the younger blonde, but it was wrong, I knew. I had more money, I dressed nicer, I was better fed, but truly I wished I was in her position. I was unhappy, and useless, just that pretty girl behind the bakery's counter, simply known as the baker's daughter.

Prim squeezed my hand. "Peeta, you seem sad, is something wrong?" she frowned at me, her brow crinkling in concern. A tight smile spread across my face. "Oh, I was just thinking about the Reaping this afternoon," I lied easily. I ran a thumb across the back of her hand. "It's your first year, are you nervous?" I asked her.

She was silent for a moment. "Terrified." she answered quietly. I frowned softly at the sad look on her face. "Well, let's forget about The Reaping right now, there's a cake waiting to be frosted!" I tried cheering her up. She gave me a smile and we took off, the smell of baking bread wafting across the square.

We spent an hour frosting the cake, I let her do the piping and choose the design, I let her lick the icing from the whisk, I snuck her a bun from the fresh loaves. Just for today, I pampered her more than I usually would, braiding her hair back and helping her wash for The Reaping. I provided her with my first Reaping dress, though she tried denying profusely. "Oh no," she gasped, waving her hands in front of her, " You've already done so much for me!" she said, gently pushing the silky fabric back at me from across the table. I smiled. "But you'd look so pretty! I want you to look nice today!" I laughed, gently nudging the dress back at her. "Please, it would make me very happy."

Reluctantly, Prim shrugged on the dress. It was a bit big on her, the back forming a little duck tail.I snapped my fingers, "Oh I know, I have the perfect thing to finish it!" I dug in my small collection of jewelry for a moment before bringing a pin out and pinning it to her chest, careful not to stick her with it. "It's a Mockingjay," I informed her, smoothing her hair,"To protect you always."

Prim spun once, the dress floating around her, before grinning slyly at me. "Now I get to make _you _look pretty!" she giggled. I backtracked. "O-oh no, I- I mean-" I blushed furiously. Prim laughed at the red blotch spreading across my face and skipped a circle around me, "Oh come on, you want to look nice for my brother right?" she smirked. I mentally cursed my admitting of a crush on her brother, I knew she would hold it over my head for the rest of my life, and then some. I sighed. "Alright," I agreed. She squealed in delight and dove for my dresser, picking out a light blue dress that was soft and cottony to the touch and just reached my knees. I allowed her to braid my hair and brush my bangs back, weaving them with a flower, a dandelion, just behind my ears.

I looked at the antique analog clock on my wall. "You better go," I warned her, "Your brother will have a heart attack if your'e not there when he gets back." I chuckled. Prim laughed before hugging me around the waist and dashing out the steps and out the door, back in the direction of the Seam. I brushed my fingers across the soft surface of the dandelion.

The Hunger Games.

* * *

Katniss frowned when he arrived home, the distinct lack of his sister making him worry. Usually she was back by now, right? A bang of the back door and the sound of running feet answered his question as his sister flew in, a flustered dove in flight, dressed differently then she had been when she'd left. His eyebrows knit together. "Where on earth did you get that dress?" he questioned. Prim grinned hugely at him. "Oh, Peeta gave it to me," she chirped, " she said she wanted me to look nice for my first Reaping."

Her smile dimmed slightly as she remembered the fact. "You should wash, you'd like to look good for The Reaping as well." she stated. Katniss sighed dramatically before ruffling his sister's hair, hands batted away with a squealed laughter of, "No, Peeta just did it!" Katniss laughed also and headed off towards the bathroom, and was surprised to find a warm bath waiting for him. Blinking, Katniss turned and kept a stony face at his mother, who was leaning in the doorway. He could provide for himself, and he did. For himself, for his sister, and for his mother, who had abandoned them in their time of need after their father had died. He tried to forgive her for shutting down, he did, but that didn't mean he could.

"I ran a bath and set out some nice clothes for you." she said quietly. Katniss nodded stiffly, watching as his mother slowly exited the bathroom, silently shutting the door behind her. Katniss washed himself throughly, scrubbing harshly and massaging the soap through his hair and digging the dirt from under his nails. When the water was finally cold and murky did Katniss get out, to find his father's best slacks and button up waiting for him. Quietly, he dressed himself, secretly relishing in the soft feel of cotton, the remaining wisps of his father's aftershave still there. He inhaled deeply and tucked in his shirt, before straightening and wiping whatever remorseful expression remained on his face. Katniss simply grunted at the knock on the door, smiling gently as his sister entered. He chuckled deeply and spun his sister around, and tucked the torso of her dress into the elastic waistband around her middle. "Tuck you tail in, little duck," he sighed softly.

Prim giggled and tugged on her brothers warm, calloused hand leading him out the door and down the street, which was flooded with others heading to the square where The Reaping would be held this year, where it was held every year. Grim faces surrounded them, some lined with coal and age, others young and terrified. And those who wandered the crowd, faces dead of emotion, some in a haze of liquor, the only way to drown out the loss of their loves ones, others taking bets secretly, on who would be picked and sentenced to slaughter this year. A stage and multiple screens had been set up in front of the Justice Hall, a stony marble building that stooped proudly amongst the rest of the squat, coal-lined buildings, a steeple rising above the rest of the surrounding buildings low peaks. Effie Trinket stood on the stage, her ridiculous metallic business suit glinting in the sun. The mayor and a few other officials and District 12's head peacekeepers sat on the stage, whispering nervously and gesturing towards an empty folding chair amongst their midst.

"Welcome all, and a happy Hunger Games to you!" Effie trilled, her voice high and nasal enough without her silly forced Capitol accent. Katniss snorted quietly under his breath. He was secretly disgusted with the Capitol, how they treated The Hunger Games as if it were a sport, as if men and women didn't lose their children each year, as if the figures on the television were simply faking their deaths. While the Capitol people sat back, getting fat off their districts provisions and making themselves up in what they thought was beautiful. Katniss peered around, hoping to catch wind of Peeta, but having no such luck.

During his thoughts, Katniss just barely caught the end of the boring monologue, the speech that was recited even year, that was bored into his brain, into every fiber of his being. A long, unfortunate story about the how Panem rose from the ashes of what used to be considered a modern society, how the Capitol divided them, how the Capitol bombed District 13 into nothingness, how they neutralized the uprisings. And how The Hunger Games were a reminder, a way to remind the districts that they held complete power over them, that they could do very well as they please, how any Capitol citizen could waltz into their houses whenever they felt, and how powerless they were against the fact. For if a hand was raised against any citizen of the Capitol in violence or defense, there would be hell. There would be The Hunger Games.

* * *

_Peeta's P.O.V._

Effie cackled into the microphone, it screeching loudly at her high tones. I scrunched my nose every time she spoke, her voice high and unpleasant to those without Capitol training of withstanding it's horrible noise. It was agony to listen to the history of Panem each year, to hear her voice crack every few words and to be blinded by her shiny clothing and wig, which never failed to slide sideways in an amusing fashion each year.

The only District 12 victor stumbled on stage at this moment, as drunk as he was every year. He planted a sloppy kiss on Effie's cheek and I snickered quietly into my hand as she made a face that showed how much she wanted to shrivel up and wipe the droopy kiss off her cheek. I forced myself to make a straight face. This was not an appropriate way to act at something the Capitol thought was merely an amusing T.V. show, which was really a sacrifice, a way that we saved our own skins another year, by acting morbid at the losses of but were secretly overjoyed that it was not us, not this year.

"Ladies first!" she screeched in the microphone, a loud whine coming from the abused thing. She skipped over to the glass bowl that held the names of every girl in the district from the age of 12 to 18, some more than others as they withdrew grain and other goods for their families. I sneaked a look at Katniss, who stood amongst the other sixteen-year-old boys. _Please, _I thought, _spare him, please, for his sister, for me. _I begged. Effie withdrew her hand from the glass globe, a single piece of paper grasped between manicured nails. She cleared her throat before reading the name on the paper.

"Primrose Everdeen." she cooed.

Something inside me went cold. The coldness settled into the pit of my stomach. I glanced at Katniss, at his clenched jaw, his wide eyes, his paling face. The tension in his neck looked painful as he stood erect, looking as if he was physically restraining himself from tackling the peacekeepers who were escorting Prim onto the stage. I knew Katniss would volunteer in a moment, if he was able to. Boys were not allowed to volunteer for girls, and vice versa. Static buzzed in my ears. My lips moved silently, even I wasn't able to hear what I said. The few people who did hear me stared in shock, most likely recognizing me from the counter in the bakery. My lips moved again, and this time I heard myself.

"I volunteer as tribute."

My voice was shaky, but loud, and everyone was staring. The camera's had focused on my face and I could see myself, wide-eyed and pale on the large flatscreen. The crowd parted silently as I made my way to the stage. I could see Katniss out of the corner of my eye, face as white as a sheet, maybe even more so. His jaw was grinding back and forth, it was almost painful to watch, I couldn't imagine how it felt. I didn't know why I had volunteered, I can't provide for myself, I hadn't gone a day hungry, I was slow when running, I couldn't climb a tree to save my life. The most I knew were household duties. My mother's sneering face flashed before my eyes. The perfect little housewife she called me, right before locking me in the closet for crying.

"Come along, dearie, we haven't got all day!" Effie smiled, but I could see the little impatient twitch at the corner of her mouth. I was shoved on stage by a faceless peacekeeper, almost tripping on the last step. I was so clumsy, I'd probably trip if I stood still long enough. Effie shoved the microphone in my face, startling me. "Your name?" she sung. I swallowed so loud I was sure everyone heard me,"Peeta Mellark."

Prim was fighting tears, her dainty hands clenched in the folds of her dress. "Peeta, no!" she protested, trying to drag me offstage, fighting the peacekeepers who tried to carry her off. Finally, the dam broke and she burst into tears, gripping the ribbon on the back of my dress. Gale came forward,we had only spoken a few times, and carried a tearful and shrieking Prim off the stage. He nodded once at me, face solemn. Effie smiled, but even she seemed a bit somber. "Excellent, we have our female tribute! And for the boys!" she said giddily, galloping over to the glass bowl, practically filled to the brim with white slips of paper.

I could feel them staring again. This time, it was like they were actually seeing me, not my face or my body, no not even the cakes I iced. This time, they were seeing the baker's daughter, and it was at my weakest moment. They weren't seeing the sweet girl who taught the younger girls games or how to braid hair, they weren't seeing the kind fair girl people always made me out to be, who I was. They were seeing the frail girl that had spent most her life hiding behind a counter, behind the title that was branded to her from her first breath. It was the first time they saw, met, the baker's daughter. And I was petrified.

Effie wasted no time in plucking the first paper her spidery fingers touched. Before she had even read the name my heart had sunk, my breath had caught in my throat and I was already accepting my death sentence. Effie's high voice shattered the heavy air in the square.

"Katniss Everdeen!"

If it was possible, my luck had gotten even worse.

* * *

Katniss made his way to the stage, gray eyes intense and staring forward, gaze unrelenting on the curtain behind the stage. Katniss had bit his tongue to keep from yelling out to his sister, for his sister, and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Only once he reached the stage did he finally stop glaring daggers at the velvety curtain, instead locking eyes with the lens of the camera and every citizen of Panem, taking their breaths away. He stood stiffly next to the flustered Effie, who had gotten caught in the trance with the rest of Panem. "Katniss Everdeen," she repeated, hands fluttering nervously, "Well I bet my buttons that was your sister earlier, no?" she gave a high-pitched giggle. Katniss nodded, stance as still and sturdy as a solider, stony demeanor fading not once, though Peeta caught a glimpse of moisture in the corner of his eyes.

"And now, I present to you, District 12's male and female tributes, Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen!"

Silence.

District 12 was silent, all remembering the boy who had more than once fed them and their children,and the girl who would smile and listen to any poor soul who wandered into her family bakery. Very slowly, as if in a trance, all of District 12 moved in synch, tipping three fingers to their lips before holding them out, as if reaching for them. A symbol of respect, a way of saying goodbye to a loved one. A last wish, it was District 12's gift goodbye to the baker's daughter and the man who fed all their families, wether he knew it or not.

Peacekeepers rushed Katniss and Peeta off the stage and into the Justice Building, the large stony doors shutting with a resounding boom. Peeta and Katniss were separated and brought into different rooms. When Katniss was finally alone, only then did he show some weakness. Tears rose to his eyes and his throat constricted, his nose burning. A strangled sob tried to rip itself from his throat. He sat heavily on the worn velvet couch behind him. His hands shook and wavered as they swam in and out of sight, yet he refused to cry. A bitter smile wormed it's way across his face. At least it was him, not Prim, and it would have, if it hadn't been for-

A strangled sob died in his throat and a lump formed. How may times would he owe the life of himself, of his family to that girl? How many times must he reminded of the debt he was in to the baker's only daughter, the one who had saved his younger sister from slaughter, from hunger? The door swung open and Prim rushed in, followed by his mother. At the sight of her usually strong, dependent brother collapsed on the couch on the verge of tears, Prim wasted no time in shedding them for him. Prim clutched to him and sobbed hysterically into his shirt, silent tears streaking down his mother's cheeks.

"Hey, hey, Prim it's gonna be alright, okay? Gale's gonna bring you game and money, and you can sell cheese from your goat, alright?" Katniss soothed, smoothing his sisters hair with warm, experienced hands that flowed through her hair like it was water. Prim sniffled into his shirt,"Promise you'll try to make it back, right?"

Katniss gave her a strained smile, "I'll try." Prim grabbed the front of his shirt, and pinned something to it. It was a pin, a shiny golden one with a Mockingjay seemingly caught mid-flight in the middle, an arrow cradled in it's claws. "To protect you always," Prim whispered. Katniss kissed the top of her head before moving past her and grasping his mother's shoulder's making her meet his serious gaze. "You can't shut down again." he told her firmly.

"I won't-" she whispered, starting when she was forcefully cut off by Katniss. "You can't! Prim _needs _ you now, I'm not gonna be here to take care of us! You can't shut everything out again,not like you did when dad died." he told her, shaking her shoulders lightly. Peacekeepers entered and Prim was dragged out in tears, his mother moseying out after them, a new light in her eyes. Gale burst into the room before the door could even fully shut, rushing to Katniss and griping his shoulders almost painfully tight. "Katniss, you gotta survive."

"Gale-"

"No! You gotta survive, if you can get your hands on a bow-"

"Gale!" Katniss interrupted,"It's not the same, I'm not killing animals, these are _people _that have _families, _I can't!" he cried.

Gale's eyes softened, "So do you Catnip. A family that _needs _you." The peacekeeper barked through the door that their time was up, before bursting in a dragging Gale out. "You'll take care of them right?" Katniss yelled over the struggles and grunts they were making as they dragged him away. "Of course!" Gale yelled back before the door slammed behind them and there was silence once more.

* * *

When Katniss boarded the train to the Capitol, Peeta was already sitting in the dining cart with Haymitch and Effie, head down so none could see her face. Just the sight of her made the lump form in Katniss's throat again. He bit his lip. Effie cleared her throat. "Well, this is Haymitch, he'll be your mentor for the games," Effie introduced, her Capitol accent breaking the somber silence of the cart, some reflecting on just barely brushing death, some accepting it, and some determined to beat it. Haymitch looked up through his scraggly blonde bangs, and scratched the beginning of stubble, observing them. "Oh, so we've got a baker and a pretty-boy, huh?" Haymitch snorted, "District 12 is sure to win this year, huh?"

Katniss was having a glare off with the older man when Peeta stood suddenly. "Excuse me," she said softly, smoothing her dress, eyes dry and head tilted as if she was of nobel birth. "I 'm heading to my room now," she stated, before exiting the dining cart and heading of the her own room, a cart entirely to herself. Silence as the door closed behind her. Haymitch scoffed and downed another glass of spirits, his teeth clinking against the edge of the glass as he said, "Oh, and apparently she thinks she's royalty too."

Katniss made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat which sounded like a growl of challenge to Haymitch. He raised an eyebrow, "Wanna go, pretty-boy? Sorry if I insulted your girlfriend."

Katniss turned on his heel, a sneer of disgust curling onto his face, he already despised the man who smelt of alcohol after a few minutes with him, but if it was a way to win the Hunger Games, he would put up with him, for Prim.

* * *

_Peeta's P.O.V._

Only once the door slammed shut behind me did I collapse with my back to it, the fibers of the carpet digging into my knees. He was wearing my pin. The pin I had given to Prim to protect her from the Hunger Games. I snorted into my knees, fat lot of good that did. Even if she hadn't ended up in the Hunger Games, he did. I hugged my knees. He had something in District 12, he had people, he had a loving family that he provided for, a friend that would die for him. What did I have? I had my cakes, I had my face, which both could be replaced easily, _I _could easily be replaced. My father would mourn me for some time, Prim would be upset, but life would go on, just with one less pretty face, one less iced cake.

I could still feel my mother's cold hands cupping my face, her nails digging lightly into my chin as she gave my a tight-lipped smile, eyes cold. _"Maybe District 12 will finally have a victor." _ she told me, eyes chilling with that usual disapproving glint.

For once, I could agree with my usually cold and distant mother. District 12 would have a victor this year, only it wouldn't be me. I was determined to get Katniss home, back where he belonged. Wether it was helping him when he was wounded or throwing myself into line of fire, I would deliver that boy home, where he was needed, where he was wanted. My fists clenched the delicate fabric of my Reaping dress and tears sprung to my eyes, a shaky smile pressing itself into my kneecaps. And that pin, that pin would be a reminder. Every time it flashed in the light, every time it would adorn his clothes, it would serve to remind me why I was here.

I was here so Katniss could go home.

I grinned and pressed my hands to my cheeks. I would do anything, to deliver the boy with the intense gray eyes home, where he was needed. "Let it be known from today forth," I whispered to myself, as if to make it official, "That the baker's daughter will return the boy with the intense eyes home."

For some reason, a blanket of calm settled over me. I had accepted the fact that I was going to die. I was going into the arena, but never coming back out. But Katniss would, I would make sure of it. Because that was my duty, it was my title, branded across me from when I was born, I was the fair, sweet, daughter who enjoyed most everyone's company, who played with and watched the younger children, who was so clumsy, that when she tripped, ten people in the street would stop to help her.I was the baker's daughter, a title I hid behind my whole life. And I would die with that title. I would die, Katniss would live, and I would be happy.

Because the odds will be in his favor, wether I have to make them that way or not.

* * *

**A/N: FINALLY. After three straight days of typing until I thought my fingers would go numb, I FINALLY finished it. And you know what? I'm damn proud of this! I got the idea for this stuck in my head a couple of week's ago, how I felt the Hunger Games would "Go Down" if Peeta and Katniss's genders had been switched. That one phrase, "The Baker's daughter" kept popping up, it just **_**stuck **_**for some reason. Alright, and before I get those whiny, bitch little review that say-**

_**"LOL Katniss is a chick dork!"**_

_**"Omg Peeta dis like the cutest guy ever, liek, why'd you make him girly and stuff~?"**_

_**"Go burn, this is so stupid."**_

_**"Lol omg wtf!"**_

**NO. I forbid reviews like this. I FORBID IT! I want meaningful reviews, not flames and shit, and please, if your gonna flame, make it smart, well thought out ones please? If they are, I will graciously bathe in those flames and maybe accept thou's advice. Anyways, I've probably lost the attention of all the shorter attention span people out there, but if your'e still reading this good for you, and don't tell the lower life forms, but I'm insulting them~!**

**Anyways, thanks for reading and do me a BIG favor and review? Puh-LEASE?**


	2. Chapter 2

Peeta's P.O.V.

I dreamt what life would be like without me again.

Ever since my head had touched the silken pillows of my bed aboard the train the same dream plagued me, a movie forever changing and reshaping, burned into my eyelids. It was the exact same dream every night, how everyone I knew and loved would carry on without me after I died in the arena. The only differences in my dream from each night were the perspectives. One night, I would watch Prim grow older and more beautiful from a distance, watch her use her amateur baking and medicine skills to help out around the house and the district as much as possible. Watch her marry the boy her age that she told me she had a crush on, watch her raise the children she would have, and how they would be beautiful like their mother.

Some nights it would be my father, I would view as he grew older, contentedly baking cakes and bread for the rest of his life, loving my mother every minute of the day, pouring his heart into his baking.

Others, it would be my mother, following her life to old age as she kept a stern gaze on everything that went about in the bakery and outside of it, watching her criticize every mistake the milk boy made or the drunken old men who would stand outside the bakery, glaring at them when the laughed too loud. My brothers would make themselves known in these dreams too. Persci would finally open the blacksmith shop he had always dreamed of, Briar would become successfully involved in trade, Grier, that fool, would become a peacekeeper, a position he had yearned for since we were young.

I remember, when we were still young and round-faced, cheeks always flushed with excitement, how we would play in the backyard together. We would play Capitol, and now when I think about it, it was always a unfair game for me, I never really liked it. When we would play, Persci would be the Capitol since he was the oldest of us, and he would stand proud and strong, small shoulders thrown back and assign each of us our roles. I still feel the stinging disappointment as I was assigned the same role over and over again. If I try hard enough I can still see Persci's young face, overcome with power as he assigned us the roles. He would always assign Grier the part of the peacekeepers which he was absolutely delighted about and took seriously. Briar would always be Districts 1-12.

I was always District 13.

Persci would then command Grier to stop the uprising districts, and Grier, Briar, and I would roll around on the ground hitting and play wrestling. Finally, Grier would "kill" me and for the rest of the game I was forced to lie still in the dry cracked dirt, counting the small ants as they marched by, playing dead, as my brothers ran around me screaming and jeering, having the time of their lives.I was not allowed to move or get up, not even speak or they would get mad at me and yell and complain about how I was _'no fun!'_ or _'ruining the game!' _or just the regular comment on how I was just _'a bratty younger sister!' _The game always ended, though, when Grier took his role too seriously, and end up hurting Briar, though he refused to apologize since he was a peacekeeper and _' it was my duty!'_

The most painful part of my dreams though, was watching Katniss. He would go home victorious and be loved and worshipped by our district, bringing them food and other goods. He would be awarded a lovely house in the center of District 12's Victor Village where he would grow older and more handsome. The part that always made my heart clench and wake with tears in my eyes was and would always be, watching him take a faceless girl's hand in marriage, and helping her raise their children. It hurt me. But there was nothing I could do about it.

I mentally shook my head to clear it of my thoughts and untangled myself from the warm sheets that had wrapped themselves around my legs. I could hear Effie striding past my room in a hurried blur of metallic shiny lipstick and unimaginably high, high heels, trumpeting something about it being a "Big, big, day!"

I sat up and stared at my hands. That's right. Today we were finally arriving at the Capitol. I made the mistake of lifting my head, and came face to face with my reflection in the mirror across from my bed. I had purple rings under my eyes, my eyes themselves being slightly red and watery, my hair a disgusting, frizzy blond halo around my head. I pulled a face and stumbled out of bed. First, a shower, I thought. Then I could deal with my growling stomach.

* * *

Katniss sat up. He'd had that dream again. Or could he call it a memory? It plagued him every night, and ever since he had been selected as tribute, even more so than usual. It was more vivid, it was like he was there again, feeling the chilling rain pummel him. What happened that night had changed him.

* * *

_A young boy wandered the abandoned streets of District 12, hungry, broken. It was raining hard and everyone had fled inside to their warm houses with food waiting for them on the table, even if it was only a bite._

_But not Katniss._

_Instead he dragged himself through the muck and rain, throughly chilled,but he couldn't bring himself to return home. Not to Prim's thin, young face staring up at him with wide eyes, small hands and mouth asking for food that wasn't there, to the empty look in his mother's eyes, to seeing her small frame bundled up in bed, distant and unresponsive to everything around her, to her starving children._

_He couldn't return home, not without food. _

_Katniss dragged himself from trash bin to trash bin, feebly scraping through the waste to see if something resembling food remained inside the containers of empty promises. The smell of baking bread wafted through the air and Katniss's stomach growled painfully. He clutched at it, as if holding it were to somehow fill it up. He heard angry red-hot screaming, and it was if he had just burned himself on a flame. His eyes dully drifted towards the source of the noise and came to rest upon a window, the people inside clearly silhouetted against it. The taller shadow seemed to be shaking and screaming in rage at a smaller one that was still, head held low. Katniss could not help but pity the smaller shadow, despite the situation he was in. He could feel the taller's scorn and rage even from here, and it was not directed at him._

_The taller figure struck the smaller one. _

_A minute later, a girl the same age as him appeared on the back porch, an angry-looking mark on her cheek. Trudging through the rain, she stopped at the pig pen, and Katniss could see three partially-burnt loaves in her arms, his mouth watered. She threw one to the pigs and did something that surprised, no, shocked him. That made him strong. That fed his family._

_She looked directly at him, blonde hair soaked and plastered to her face, and tossed the remaining two loaves gently, so they landed squarely at his feet. He stared at them, he could easily scape the burnt parts of the crust off, and they would be perfectly fine. The bread was still warm, nice and fresh, the remaining heat radiating off them and warming his fingers as he gently scooped them up. He looked up and opened his mouth to thank her, but the girl had already disappeared inside, the door clicking shut softly as he stared._

* * *

Katniss relived that night as he got dressed, the look in his eyes distant, actions mechanical and powered by memory. He never did thank her. And he had so many chances to afterwards! Katniss's jaw clenched. He remembered, how the day afterwards, how he had shown up for school, discreetly asking about the blonde girl taking residence at the bakery. Most just referred to her as the 'Baker's Daughter' and shrugged him off. Until one girl, the mayor's daughter, Madge, told him her name.

Peeta Mellark.

From that day, Katniss would notice little things about her. Like when she got new shoes, or if she had a different flower twisted into her hair. How her face would basically light up at the sound or image of those even vaguely familiar. How her tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth when she was painting in art class.

A cold feeling of guilt rushed over Katniss, swishing in his very pores and consuming him, flooding his mouth and nose till he could stand it no longer and fell back on his bed, gasping. He never thanked her, and now, a mere thank-you for bread given many years ago would seem stupid, childish even. And after what she had done only a few days ago, giving up what little freedom she had in District 12 and taking his sister's place in the Hunger Games, shielding her, if only for a little bit, from the Capitols sick twisted ways. A thank you would not clear his debt towards her. Because nothing is equivalent to a human's life.

Katniss pushed through the the sliding door to his room and made his way towards the dining cart, depression and reluctance like dogs lapping at his heels, guilt a tight collar around his neck. When he entered, Haymtich was serving himself to spirits between bites of food, Effie fluttering around as much as she could with a teacup in hand. It seemed the woman could never be still. He seated himself across from Haymitch and quickly piled his plate with food. There was never food in this much quantity or decadence in District 12 available to him or most of the richer families of 12. If the people of the Capitol eat as hardy as this everyday, they would not last one minute starving. Katniss thought to himself, ripping into a chicken leg, almost groaning at the delicious orange sauce that leaked out.

"Gee, Pretty-boy get enough sleep? You don't so well." Haymitch baited sarcastically, referring to the dark circles under his eyes. Katniss glowered and opened his mouth to retort when the dining cart's door slid open slightly and Peeta slid through the small crack, shutting the door behind her quietly.

"So the princess has finally decided to grace us with her presence?" Haymtich drawled,temporarily forgetting about the sharp gray glower that was boring holes into the side of his head. Haymitch snorted, lifting the thin stem of the wine glass and holding it out to her, as if in mock cheers. Peeta's face flushed and she gave a weak glare. Katniss's lips turned in a sneer. Whether Haymitch was from District 12 or not, he was exactly like the Capitol in so many ways, picking on the weak knowing there was nothing Peeta could do to stop him, not that she tried to. She simply fell silent and dished food onto her own plate. Effie swatted his shoulder and told him to be polite. Haymtich simply shrugged her hand off, reaching for the bottle of spirits again. Peeta shocked him and the two others in the dining cart by knocking it out of his grasp.

"I think you've had enough." she said softly.

* * *

Peeta's P.O.V.

I returned my eyes to my plate, realizing I had put very little on it. I guess I wasn't hungry. The room was silent and I could not help but feel a little smug, just a bit more confident in myself. I had finally stood up for myself, and I had to admit, it felt great. I stood up, heading to the buffet cart on the other side of the room, when I felt a hot slash across my cheek and white temporarily blotted out my vision. I could hear Effie shriek in the background and what sounded like a growl from Katniss. I sunk to my knees, the soft yet prickly carpet burrowing into them. Haymitch stood above me, an eyebrow raised. "I'm surprised," he says,"you didn't cry out like the little princess you are."

I grit my teeth and push myself back to my feet, glaring at him while holding my cheek. I could tell him it wasn't my first time being slapped, and it happened on so many occasions, I stopped screaming. Instead I made my way to the fruit bowl and scooped out ice from underneath the familiar and foreign delicacies and into a napkin, holding it to my cheek. "Don't ice it," Haymitch commands, "It'll look like you got in a fight with another tribute."

"Fighting before entering the arena is not allowed," I tried to say coldly, but it instead came out sounding hollow. I held the ice tighter to my face, trying to spite him. Haymitch shrugged and muttered something about mentoring "snobby brats" which made my glare harden. He reached for a new bottle of liquor, just as I resigned myself to trying to prove I wasn't a weak little princess to him. It was not his acknowledgement I wanted. I watched Katniss out of the corner of my eye. It was a blur and I was so shocked when Katniss plunged a knife, all the way to the hilt, between Haymitch's hand and the liquor bottle. He raised an eyebrow. "So we have tributes with a little fighting spirit this year, hm? District 12 might have a chance of winning."

Katniss scowled. "Apologize, now." he growled. Haymitch snorted at him. "Oh so you're a man of chivalry?" he mocked. He leaned forward, face suddenly going serious, a look that was so strange and exotic seeming to me, as I have only known him from the reaping and the past few days on the train, during which he was always intoxicated.

"Well, pretty boy, either you lose that trait now or you do in the arena, because it's you against 23 other tributes your age, which includes her," he said, pointing at me briefly before turning back to Katniss,"So I suggest you get smart, because no female tribute from District 1 is gonna let you live just because you were _polite _to them."

Katniss scowled and sat back, unhappy but silent for now. I could only watch shock, the sharp stinging in my cheek numbed by the melting ice and quickly forgotten. Had Katniss really wanted him to apologize on my behalf, or just because it was the right gentlemanly thing to do? I mentally shook my head. Why should I care? We were to be thrown into the arena, mere puppets for the Capitol to play with, as they changed and controlled our surroundings. I excused myself from the room without eating a thing, dropping the soaking and cold napkin that once held ice on the table before exiting, my mind buzzing.

Yes, that was what we are, mere puppets that entertain the Capitol. It was if we were acting out a tragic story. And this story, was written and controlled by the Capitol, I thought, shutting the sliding door behind me, before laying out on the plush carpet floor of my room. Yes, the plot, the setting, everything was controlled by the writer, the author, and in this case, the Capitol. We followed the Capitol's plot mindlessly, obediently starving and slaying each other. Because no one controlled the author, no one could purge the horrible thoughts of the author's sadistic mind. It was truly the most tragic story to be written, to be told, to be shared freely with everyone.

I rolled onto my stomach. The author knew no shame, I thought, brushing my fingers through the fine but durable fibers of the carpet. The Capitol, knew no shame. We were simply puppets, bound by unseen strings that they held. That was all. I wanted so badly to cut my strings, but that was obscene, insane, and the last who had tried had been bombed to death, and now were smoldering dead ashes of a barren wasteland. The Capitol did not understand how precious life was, to eliminate an entire District to kill thousands from others, and then to take twenty-four children from their parents and families, and have them killed in a sport they considered festive.

Yes, the Capitol was a cruel author, one of no bounds, one who saw no problem and had no shame with killing off all its characters. And I had just landed myself a leading role in one of its books.

* * *

Katniss sat, quietly fuming from the speech he had received in the most condescending tone Haymitch could muster while being slight inebriated. The damn fool. He was not chivalrous, but he had seen the small flash of fear in Peeta's eyes, he had felt the pouring rain chilling him, he could still see the small, blonde girl standing in the rain, hair a soaked halo around her face as she tossed him bread the had provided his family for days. He had snapped and buried a butter knife to the hilt just inches between the shimmering glass of the intoxicant and the calloused fingers of his useless mentor. The man looked hardly shocked! Even Katniss had been, even though they were his own actions. He stared at his hands that rested in his lap, he could still feel the cold hilt of the knife's handle in his palm. What had caused him to lash out like that? He had never in his life ever been so instinctive and quick to hurt or threaten somebody, even while hunting.

It worried him, it truly did. Was this what being reaped did to people? It was not a secret that half the victors that had won the games had either come out depressed and scarred, others bloodthirsty, ready for more. His fingers clenched, the short nails creasing pale crescent moons in the heels of his palms. Would that be would he would be like if he ever made it out of the arena, would he be crazed, bloodthirsty and paranoid? He was not even in the arena yet and he had already tried to stab somebody unintentionally. He hated it, and he hated the Capitol even more so. Gray eyes seemed to burn holes in his hands. The Capitol had done this, they'd made him violent and ready to lash out. Despite the unemotional and stony facade he had always kept up, excluding when being present with Gale and his family, he was a very simple, prioritized person, and would like nothing more than to simply provide for his family and hold his sister close and make sure she was safe and fed, as he was sure others wanted as well.

A burdensome feeling overwhelmed him, it seemed as if his shoulders were weighed down by a copious amount of weight. Prim. He had promised to try and make it back for her, but what if he didn't? Gale could hunt and provide money for his family for only so long, before he was forced into the mines with a wage that would just barely be able to afford his family's own needs, much less his mother and sister's. And the goat Katniss had bought her for her birthday, Lady, was very old and was sure to die soon. Katniss sucked in a breath. The money would run out, what would his family do? Prim was not fit for hunting, though he had tried to teach her and she had tried her hardest to learn. He heard Effie stand up, rather than seeing her, as he kept his eyes firmly in his lap, and angry expression scarring his relatively handsome features.

"I'm off to check on Peeta, we'll be arriving at the Capitol soon, I want everyone present." she ordered, trying to push as much authority as she could into her voice, though it rang soundly through the room, smeared like her teeth with metallic lipstick. As she passed Haymtich though, she slapped the back of his head. "I would hope you are going to apologize to her." she frowned accent slipping, before exiting. Katniss smirked as he watched Haymitch ruffle his already untamed scruffy hair, trying to soothe the bruise that was sure to be forming there, he liked this Effie woman a lot more suddenly.

* * *

Peeta's P.O.V.

I simply laid there on the floor of my room, entertaining myself briefly with thoughts of what I would do if I ever made it out of the arena and back home. My hands were itching to get on something to draw and sketch with, and it almost hurt me physically how much I yearned for a blank canvas and some oil paints. I wanted to paint everything that made District 12, District 12. I wanted to paint the image of the coal miners, hustling down the street, coal lined faces and sooty clothing, black rock under their nails and the lines of handwork and age in their faces.

I wanted to paint the family bakery, as quaint and inviting as ever, my father in the window, doughy face smiling, eyes crinkled with laughter, my mother by his side, platinum hair pulled back into a orderly and perfect bun at the back of her head, a slight smile on her sharp face which was used for rare occasions.

I wanted to draw the Justice building, truly the pride of District 12, it standing tall and mighty, the other buildings seeming small compared to it.

Mostly, I wanted to paint Katniss and Prim. I had no doubt in my mind that they were the most important people in my life, excluding my own family. I wanted to find the exact shade of steely gray that matched Katniss's eyes, I yearned to find the perfect shade of yellow for Prim's hair.

_It would require a lot of blending of colors _I thought, imagining what colors would blend and swirl perfectly to create the perfect texture and color for Prim's beautiful blonde hair. A knock sounded at my door. I wanted to pretend I was not there, but there was really no other place for me to be. The train was big, but I had mostly stayed in my bedroom the entire time, lost in thought and lending no such time to the general idea if exploring the expanse of the train.

The knock came again, and I could tell by the use of nails that it was Effie. I sighed and pushed myself to my feet, reluctantly opening the door. Effie flew in, like a caged bird finally set free, startling me to no end. The woman was a blur, even though she was simply standing in the middle of my room, she seemed to be vibrating with energy. I held back the urge to sigh again. Did the woman ever run out of energy? Or were all people from the Capitol like that? "We're arriving in the Capitol now, I want everybody in the dining car!" she informed, or rather commanded me, as she shoved my through the doorway and towards the direction of the dinning cart, leaving no room for argument.

When we entered, Katniss and Haymitch were still glaring at each other as if it was the others fault they were so miserable. In a way, I guess it kinda was. Their eyes briefly roamed to me before returning to the silent war they were sharing. I touched my cheek again, the pain had died down in my cheek into a throbbing. I briefly caught a glance of myself in the reflection of Effie's now cold cup of tea, the red mark still remaining on my cheek. I grimaced; when my mother slapped me the marks never remained for so long. The silence in the air was suffocating and I was sure we were all going to die because of it, until Effie broke it. "So," she giggled nervously,"We're finally arriving in the Capitol! Just a little while more until The Hunger Games! Huurah!" she squeaked. Katniss threw a disgusted look her way while Haymitch sat back in his seat, pouring himself more liquor. I meandered over to the window, looking out as we pulled into the Capitol, the train surrounded by smiling, painted and plucked faces. I smiled back unintentionally, Capitol fashion is just so weird! My small smile ignited a spark in the crowd and there was sudden cheering and waving, flashing cameras aimed at me. I smiled more broadly and waved back, they were all so funny looking I couldn't help but be amused. Behind me, I could hear Haymitch talking to Katniss.

"You better watch out, she knows what she's doing."

* * *

Katniss frowned and sat back in his seat at the dining table, watching Peeta wave and smile at the people outside the window, as if it wasn't their fault she was there, there to be watched and betted over as she slaughtered and formed alliances with people. Which brought him back to thinking about what Haymitch had said. He was right, Peeta was capturing and winning the hearts of the people out there, people who could be possible sponsors. She wasn't the baker's daughter from District 12 anymore, she wasn't the girl who had taken his sister's place in the games, she was an enemy now. Just another face amongst others that would be in the arena, one that he prayed he wouldn't have to kill. Yes, he tried convincing himself, she's just an enemy, another tribute now. She's nothing to you. You aren't even from the same district. Or so he tried to tell himself. He couldn't forget the little girl with the bread. Instead he steeled himself, clearing his mind, trying not to mull over the situation as the train finally stopped, pulling into the station. When they were finally allowed off the train, he found himself separated from Peeta and swept away in a flurry of Peace Keepers. He was finally shoved into a room, more like a space, separated from other tributes by the thin standardized hospital curtains. There was a hospital gown laying on the cool metal table. Sighing, he stripped down and donned the uncomfortable, papery outfit. Katniss sat on the table, shivering as it met his warm skin, waiting for someone or something, only to be surprised when his robe was suddenly yanked off.

"Tut, tut! Look at all the work we have!"

"My, have you _ever _plucked your eyebrows?"

"Darling, leg hair is _so _last year!"

A woman with spiky aqua hair and a sharp, angular face appeared before Katniss, the gold tattoos above her eyebrows flashing, lips pursed. "Looks like I have a lot of work to do," she muttered, completely ignorant to Katniss's slight offense at the statement. "You?" a man behind him wailed, orange curls bouncing as he shook his head in distress, "Look at this hair! It'll take me forever to do it!" he complained, yanking on a strand of Katniss's hair harshly, drawing a hiss through his clenched teeth. He was suddenly caught again when a small, plump woman with her skin dyed a light pea-green yanked his hands forward, examining his short and blunt nails. "This won't do at all!" she pouted. Pulling himself away from the strange people surrounding him, he glared at the coldly, asking through gritted teeth who they were. The small woman blinked. "Oh! Sorry dearest, we didn't introduce ourselves did we? I'm Octavia, nice to meet you."

The man with bright orange curls shook Katniss's hand eagerly, "I'm Flavius, I'm your hair dresser," he grinned, purple lips splitting to show a row of perfectly white teeth. The other woman with the golden tattoos didn't jump at him like the other two did, making her Katniss's favorite by far. "I'm Venia. We're your prep team for the games."

Katniss accepted this news with little protest, they seemed harmless, like strange, colorful birds, he thought, before hissing in pain as Venia removed another strip of leg hair. "Your tolerance for pain is quite remarkable," she complimented. Katniss's head was yanked back as Flavius yanked the brush through his hair. Closing his eyes, Katniss flinched at the sound and feel of a nail filer on his fingers. This was torture, and the worst part hadn't even come.

* * *

Peeta's P.O.V.

I sighed, running a perfectly manicured nail over my now flawless and soft skin. I had been plucked, waxed, and painted to perfection, and smelt strongly of the disgusting yet soothing lotion my prep team had coated me in. I didn't even catch their names, just the name of my stylist, Portia, before she had bustled out of the room, leaving me in the nameless prep team's hands. They were decent, and they complemented me throughout the entire process, on taking care of my skin and hair and noting loudly on my nice figure, all which made me blush profusely. The reason I was taken so well of is because I hardly did any manual labor, other than carrying the very heavy bags of flour from our back doorstep into the bakery, and my mother always made sure I was presentable.

I had pulled my garish hospital robe back on after the prep team had left, but now it was slipping down again. I heard a wolf whistle from behind me and I spun around, grasping my robe tightly. A tall, muscular boy with a wolfish grin stood next to the curtain that was supposed to be separating us, completely naked. Now, I lived a two bedroom apartment above the bakery sharing a room with my three brothers, so I was not squeamish about seeing a man nude, nor being caught nude by one, but the way his piercing eyes roamed over me, I was uncomfortable. It was like watching an animal before it devoured it's prey. I stood up straighter, raising my head in defiance, but I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eyes. It was a sign of aggression with most animals, and that was how he looked, stalking over to me, the largest, most vile animal of the pack.

"You're kind of pretty, what's you name, Twelve?" he asked,his voice making the hair in the back of my neck stand up. "P-peeta Mellark." I answered quietly, cursing myself for stuttering. He laughed quietly, a dangerous chuckle, and his eyes held a lust I know from those men back in District 12, ones that were eager and willing to do anything to get what they want. The type of men that scared me. He moved closer and I flinched, stepping back. He was about to reach out, to touch me, when a voice rang from behind him.

"Excuse me! Cato, your prep team is looking for you, you best get along now!" Portia boomed, hands on her tiny hips. I mentally breathed a sigh of relief, I don't know what would have happened if she hadn't interrupted him, and it chills me to imagine it. Cato, as Portia called him growled and swore under his breath, backing away. Glancing over his shoulder at me, he gave me a cocky smirk. "Later, Twelve." he said with fake airiness, before disappearing behind the curtain.

The prep team showed up again, bundling me into a nightgown with my district's number on it, before escorting me away, Portia leading us with a big smile on maroon lips as she declared, "Oh you won't believe what Cinna and I have in store for you!"

* * *

Katniss frowned as a man walked in, watching him with the wariness of an animal. His skin stung and its olive tone was slightly pink from being plucked and rubbed down in different materials. His hair was now fluffy and soft, his nails perfect with a clear coat of nail polish on them. He didn't like it, it felt alien to him, used to having rough calloused hands that were now soft and smooth and course black hair, tangled horribly. The man that had slunk in gave him a small smile, waving at Katniss as he approached him. "Hello Katniss, I'm Cinna, I'll be your stylist."

Cinna, by Capitol standards was a very simple man, which was something Katniss appreciated about him, the only little flash of color on him being his gold eyeliner. He had simple looks and was inviting and lacked the Capitol's annoying accent, Katniss liked him already, though he still held his suspicions.

Raising an eyebrow, Katniss hopped off the metal table. "So you're here to make me pretty?" he said sarcastically.

Cinna smiled. "No, I'm here to help you make an impression."

* * *

**My gosh I'm so sorry you guys! You must have been waiting forever, got bored, and then forgotten about this. I've been busy, and school has just started, as so...you know. This was actually sitting on my computer for weeks, but I felt like it wasn't done, so I didn't post it. I feel horrible. I hope you guys like this chapter, and reviews are appreciated as long as they're meaningful! **

**Please, if you're going to flame, don't be one of those _'Lol wtf katnis is a grl stupid.' _If they are flames with very good insight, and correct grammar and such, I'll be very happy to be hated, very. Well, that's all! _  
_**

**Have any comments/questions? Review or message me! **

**Sincerely, **

**Scorn's Child**


	3. Chapter 3

Peeta's P.O.V

I nervously stroked the nose of the chariot horse, which nuzzled me appreciatively in return. This was insane, this was madness, this was so original and genius and I was absolutely terrified. Katniss jogged up to me, looking well-manicured and pampered. It was odd, to see him without mud-caked boots, or bits of dirt underneath his short blunt nails. And I could tell he thought it was weird too. He looked uncomfortable in his own skin. It wasn't the first time I've seen Katniss look nervous, but it was unusual to see with such a made up face. "Hey," he greeted shortly. I nodded nervously. He ran a hand through his moused hair, and made a face as his fingers met stiff styling product. I knew exactly how he felt. There was probably enough hairspray in my own hair to start a small bonfire, which just added to my fears.

"How do you feel about this synthetic fire?" he asked edgily, and I could tell he was against it himself. I shrugged a shoulder, looking away quickly. "I'll rip off your cape if you rip off mine." I joked weakly. That, fortunately, spawned a small but genuine smile from him. He shot a look behind him in the direction of Cinna, his stylist. I followed his line of sight to Portia who stood next to him, looking ecstatic as she held a small torch, flickering in jubilant flame. My palms felt sweaty at the prospect of being lit afire. "They're both mad." Katniss said with a cautious look on his face. Maybe I had imagined the anxiety only moments ago, because his features were stony and resolute. There was a sudden buzz, an excited din as the stylists and prep teams broke into a frenzy as the last few minutes before the opening ceremony began. I watched as other tributes were bustled about in there costumes, some more garish than others. The boy, Cato, from earlier winked at me as he passed, letting out a quiet wolf-whistle. I felt the back of my neck redden unattractively. Portia whirled past, her slight, slim fingers wrapping around my wrist and with a strength I would not expect from her, hoisting me into the chariot. She patted my hair, touched up my makeup, and adjusted my cape. But it was not appearances I was worried about. It was the flame the color of kermes gripped in her other hand. "Are you sure this is safe?" I asked, jostling Katniss as we shuffled back and forth next to each other in the small chariot. Portia waved away my worries with a dainty hands. "Absolutely. Cinna is an absolute genius. The crowd will love you!" she singsonged. She gave me a motherly look. "I wouldn't send you out, if it wasn't safe." she said.

I somehow felt there was more meaning behind her words.

Cinna stepped away from the black carrier, giving us a fleeting smile. "Are you ready?" he asked. "No." Katniss answered honestly, turning so that the black shining material of his cape caught the light of the flame. It shone like the shiny casing of a beetle. "But get on with it." he said firmly. I nodded, as brave as I could manage. I also turned around, granting better access to the material clasped around my neck. I sucked in a breath as I felt the torch hover near my back, expecting pain. I looked up in surprise, when all I felt was an odd flickering against the back of my neck. Katniss must have had the same look as well, because Cinna chuckled as Portia let out a delighted squeal. She quickly lit my headpiece, a crown of hammered bronze, dusted with coal. I glanced past the prep teams and general chaos to Effie and Haymitch. Effie gave me a large, lipstick stained smile and Haymitch gave a lopsided smirk and mouthed, 'knock 'em dead, princess.'

It gave me little confidence of what was to come. The chariots ahead were already pulling out into the clean streets of the capitol, met by bays and howls of capitol spectators. It was a well-dressed riot, in my own words. I was jostled and bumped into the side of the carriage as the horses took off, agonizingly slow as we were the last to pull out. For a moment, there was silence, as if all the air had been sucked out of the capitol and I thought I was going to faint from fear, but then a roar unlike the others buzzed in my ears and I fought the urge to clamp my hands down over them. The crowd loved us, and I could certainly see why, as I caught sight of myself in one of the large screens plastered around the streets for such an event. We were stunning, walking pillars of flame. Cinna had certainly done amazing on Katniss, that I was sure. Every eye was plastered to him and I didn't mind, as mine were as well. He looked like a god, a ruthless man of flame, his face slack of emotion. The shadows of the flames danced across his face and flickered in his eyes as if he was watching the burning of the city. It was mesmerizing, but very…cold. Very unlike fire. Very unlike the Katniss I know is in there.

* * *

Katniss watched with hidden anxiety at the rows of cheering people that seemed to go on for miles. Every one of them was painted a funny color or another, and were almost as hideous as some of the costumes Katniss had seen on the other tributes. A tree? Really, of all things. Katniss snorted under his breath, eyes roaming the crowd until he felt a small, callused hand worm it's way into his. His eyes instantly snapped to Peeta as he tried to withdraw, but she gripped his hand tighter. She had to stand on her tiptoes slightly, but still managed to whisper, "The crowd's will love it," into his ear. And apparently they did, as the cheers increased sharply. Peeta smiled and waved good-naturedly, blowing kisses here and there. People in the audience grappled as if they could actually catch such a thing. Katniss could only stare and wave every few minutes, an almost smile on his face. He was not as good as putting up a front as Peeta, that he was sure. But with an almost celebratory smile, he hoisted their joined hands into the air on a bout of inspiration. He looked right into the camera lens and held their hands even higher, high enough that Peeta had to stand on her tip toes to keep up appearances. But that didn't stop her from smiling and waving.

Someone tossed a rose and Katniss caught it, holding it in his other hand by it's delicate stem. After a spurt of insanity, he held it to his lips, then tossed it back into the crowd. A riot broke out as people fought and reached for the flower. As they rode into the center of the capitol, he dropped Peeta's hand as the chariot came to a halting stop, and the tributes fell into place in neat rows beside one another. Katniss could feel the heated, jealous stares of other tributes around them, no doubt furious and shocked that District 12 had stolen their spotlight this year. It made him very proud.

"Panem!" A voice boomed over a mic from the balcony the chariots were parked before. The capitol went insane as Coriolanus Snow, President of Panem, stepped into view. It was hard for Katniss to shelter his distaste for him as he began speaking. The President was a small thin man, with the complexion of paper and hair as ablicant as melting snow. His lips stretched across his lips, big and puffy, and unusually red. Of all the strange and silly facades Katniss had seen in his short time in the Capitol, this was the most unpleasing of all. "My dear tributes, welcome to the Capitol!" he said with a certain flourish. The crowd roared, but quieted quickly as Snow continued. "You honor me, with your presence and participation in the 74th Hunger Games. And, may the odds be ever in your favor," he quoted. There was a dull roar this time, but it was decidedly as quiet as it would get. Snow continued on, his gaze searching the tributes. Katniss was sure it had paused on him, longer than most. "Once again we are gathered in the city's square for the 74th time, in the history of the Hunger Games."

"It is an always the joy of the citizens of this wonderful metropolis to host Panem's tributes teams." A roar accompanied this statement. A dull throb began in Katniss's head as the screams grew louder. His flames had begun to flicker out, but Peeta's remained. She looked merry and bright, like the flickering of a warm candle flame on a cold night. The flames caught her hair and made is shine like spun gold, and the light flickered in her azure eyes which were alert and turned upwards towards snow. The flames tinted the flies a nice tilleul. She was absolutely glowing. "It is my great honor, and pleasure to share this special moment with the thousands of trainers, mentors, stylists, officials and more, who have gathered in city square tonight, for the opening of the largest annual Hunger Games in the history of Panem. Thank you Panem, for this great loyalty to the Hunger Games. As we all know, the first ancient civilization in this great country was decimated with disasters. Drought, storm, fire, rising seas, and worst of all; bloody brutal wars. Out of the ashes rose Panem and the shining savior that is the Capitol. For years the nation enjoyed peace and prosperity. Still, there are always those who seek the downfall of our great civilization through evil acts. A growing, war hungry rebellion pulled all of Panem into the dark days. Yet still, Justice prevailed despite these wrongdoings of these, evil, violent people."

Katniss tossed his head like an agitated horse. Evil, pah. They'd recognized slavery when they had seen it. They were not blinded by goodies and make up such as these painted Capitol clowns. What a joke. Not one of them could last a day in his life.

" Through the haze of betrayal and treason, new peace was found. An agreement was met. The people could enjoy peace and quiet like they were so privileged to do. And this agreement stated that one man, and one woman of the twelve districts must offer up their life in sport of peace. And they will enter the arena, an event celebrated as warriors of each district fought for glory and praise unlike any other. They would be remembered as heroes throughout history. This event of which would be called, the Hunger Games."

The crowd roared and whistled, some wiped tears from their eyes. They were blinded by pretty words, making the torturous blood bath sound saintly and fair. President Snow's puffy lips upturned into a smile that a snake would find sly. His slanted, tinged eyes found Katniss's own as he stared up, boring his gaze into the frail man. Even from where he stood Katniss could smell a disgustingly sweet stench of roses. It practically suffocated him. President Snow looked away quickly, and his eyes met the camera. He gave a sickening smile. "And once again I congratulate the tributes for being picked amongst many, for such an amazing honor. Thank you." With that, President Snow turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness further back in the balcony. The horses nickered and continued on their journey. Katniss was unresponsive on the bustling journey back, eyes narrowed. People whistled and tossed flowers, hoping that maybe one would be christened with a kiss, but the most he did was dodge them. When they returned, Haymitch and Effie congratulated them, and Katniss and Peeta were quick to shed their clothes, flames long done flickering out. Cinna congratulated them on their success with the crowd, but it hardly lifted Katniss's spirits. He felt a certain sense of dread. Towards what, he did not know. But he usually followed his instincts, and his instincts were telling him nothing good was about to come. Perhaps, something even worse than the Hunger Games.

* * *

Peeta's P.O.V.

"You both preformed absolutely marvelous!" Effie told me for about the hundredth time. I cracked a shy smile as we stepped into an elevator, completely made of glass. "And the part with the hands, absolutely touching, warmed my heart!" she said, fanning her eyes as if she were about to cry. I nodded, not replying as I watched the floors disappear under my feet. It was odd, I'd never been in an elevator before, much less a transparent one. I was tempted to ask if we could ride again once we'd reached the top. I was on a high, it had been such a thrill, despite the sickening and serious situation we were about to go into. To think that there had been crowds, crowds filled with thousands upon thousands of people, cheering, fighting over meaningless kisses I'd blown was heart-stopping. I had never received such attention before, and it was brilliant. The elevator dinged to a stop and we stepped into the most elaborate room I had ever seen, topping the cars on the train here. Effie whirl-winded past me, giving me a rapid fire tour of the entire place. Katniss followed after Haymitch, who stumbled about, most likely searching for his latest carouse. Katniss glanced around in awe, eyes fixated upon the sparkling chandelier that took up most of the ceiling. I quickly sped up the steps which led to the risen platform which the dining table sat upon. The table was laden with food of kinds I had never seen before, and artfully formed glasses filled with wine and other spirits sat upon the finely woven tablecloth. I ran my fingers over it. It was like touching water.

"You gonna stand and gawk all day, your highness or are you gonna come eat?" Haymitch drawled, swishing what looked like one of many of glasses of wine he'd acquired. I growled at him, and he rose an eyebrow in return. "Stop calling me princess, please." I asked, though it's best to remain in his good graces. He was basically holding my life in his hands when I entered the arena. It wouldn't be good for me to anger him. Haymitch raised his hands in defense as I approached him. I simply flopped unladylike into the chair besides his. Katniss had already claimed the one next to Effie, and Portia and Cinna were seated at both ends of the table. "To Katniss and Peeta, for making a stunning impression." Cinna toasted, raising his glass. Katniss's eyes flickered to his quickly before they returned to glowering at his plate. He had been very quiet and moody after President Snow's speech. It was sad, he seemed to be enjoying himself for awhile. A plate was set in front of me by a man in a red uniform. I thanked him, but he said nothing in return, nodding his head and looking away, eyes downcast. He returned to his position in the corner. I figured he was simply not allowed to speak to tributes, and shrugged it off. And for once, obliviously dug into my food. There was a merry, but quiet conversation carrying on around the table. Effie and Portia cooed over the outfits they'd seen with Cinna giving his own input every once in awhile. Haymitch's two cents were riddled with heavy alcohol and even heavier sarcasm.

Katniss didn't say a word the entire evening.

After we'd eaten. Katniss retreated to his room, the door sliding shut with a near silent click. I thought about knocking, asking if he was alright, but it didn't seem like the right time. Instead I headed towards my own room. It was large and spacey, as big as the apartment I'd lived in above the bakery. And it was all for me. No bickering and bullying brothers, no strict mothers, and my father, bless him, none of his ridiculous collections laying around. That was one thing my mother absolutely despised about my father, his habits of picking up the thing that interested him even slightly and carrying it home. Briar would always joke that one day he'd come in toting a new daughter, one that was more interesting than me and could do more than bake.

Would he, after I was dead?

I shook my head furiously as I tried focusing on the complicated shower controls. It was not a time for such morbid thoughts. I jabbed a random button in frustration and found myself standing amongst a million bubbles. They all had a different unique scent. I played with the bubbles mindlessly as the showers warm water rained down on me. What would become of my family after I was dead? The bubble in my hand popped and with it came the answer.

Nothing.

Life would continue on, and so would my family. Grier would probably take my place behind the counter, being the youngest of my three brothers. Maybe my mother would lighten up, and smile a bit more. They wouldn't have to pay for me, they'd probably save money in fact. I hunched into the bubbles, seating myself on the heated marble tiles. My high had decreased rapidly as I sat there, neck deep in bubbles that's lovely fumes suddenly seemed harsh and dizzying. Water that scalded my skin ran over my shoulders and down my face. And suddenly, I began to scrub.

I scrubbed until my skin was red and raw, cranking up the heat of the shower until that bathroom was steamy and it felt as if I was boiling alive. I scrubbed until my nails softened and bent, and my shoulders peeled. I rubbed the soap in until the soothing lotions made me hiss in agony. I washed my hair until my scalp was tender and new. Yet I continued, as if I could wash away my very existence. But despite my efforts, I couldn't. I winced as the pajamas touched my baking skin and the bed sheets made me flinch.

Needless to say, I did not sleep well that night.

* * *

**A/N: Hello! I'm so sorry I took absolutely forever to update, you're all darlings, thank you for being so patient. And I apologize that this chapter is soo short! Please review, but dear god if anyone one of you leave a 'but katniss is a gurl!' or 'omG lameee!' comment I will track you down. I will be under your bed at night. I will breathe on your face, gently caress your cheek and whisper the darkest nightmares into your ears. Fucking try me. **

**But I love you all so don't force my hand. **

**Review? **


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